Potions and Patience
by fredmyfred
Summary: Draco and Harry are potions partners for the term when Draco discovers Harry is lonely and hurting. Could Draco be the thing to heal him? Rated M for self-harm, HPDM slash (eventually), and general dark themes.
1. Potions Class

**Hello all -**

**I know, I know. I haven't finished _Twin's Share Everything_ or _The Ice Prince's Secret_. I promise I will...one day. However, I've had this idea floating around for a little fluff, a little angst, and a lot of HPDM for a while now. A note: trigger warnings for self-harm and depression, content warnings for language. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 1 - Potions Class**

Harry Potter was bleeding again, and Draco Malfoy wanted to know why. The two teens had been paired together as potions partners for the term, and though it had been rough at the start, Harry and Draco had begrudgingly fallen into a loose sort of truce and resigned themselves to work together rather than bicker. While it would be untrue to call them friends, or even really acquaintances, it meant that they didn't mince words, limiting their communication to what was necessary to complete the assignment for the class – mostly "hand me the wormwood" or "now stir twice clockwise and three times counterclockwise." However, today Draco was both curious and, if he was honest with himself, slightly concerned.

He had first noticed Harry's wrist a few weeks into the term. Potter, as Draco referred to him, had been stirring their potion and reached across the table to grab some Doxy wings. The left sleeve of his robe slipped slightly and Draco had noticed a diagonal cut across his wrist. He frowned as a small drop of blood ran from the cut on Potter's arm and dripped onto their workstation.

"Potter, you're bleeding." Draco had remarked.

"Oh, erm, yeah," Potter had replied. "There was a broken vial mixed in with some of the ingredients in the supply cabinet. I must have nicked myself." Draco thought it odd that Potter had simply pulled his sleeve down and continued working on their potion, but he did not press the issue.

A few weeks later the two partners were working on a particularly difficult potion that required them to keep the fire under their cauldron at maximum heat – a blue flame. In addition, one had to constantly stir while the other kept track of time and added ingredients in a specific order. Both were sweating heavily, faces flushed as they feverishly watched the potion change colors. Draco was stirring and Harry timing and adding the prepared ingredients. Finally, the last ingredient was added and with several more stirs, their potion turned the correct color and began to simmer gently as it was supposed to. Potter, sweat glistening on his forehead pushed his sleeves up his arms. A moment later, he seemed to reconsider, and tugged his left sleeve back down, catching Draco's eye. This time Draco caught a glimpse of three cuts on Potter's wrist before the sleeve covered them up again.

"Potter, what happened to your wrist?" Draco queried. Potter seemed suddenly uncomfortable.

"Uhh…yeah…well, I was watching Hermione's cat and it scratched me." Draco looked at Potter, considering this explanation.

"That looked like more than just a scratch…" said Draco, doubt in his voice.

"Well, that's what happened. Since when do you care anyway?" Potter deflected the comment, making Draco slightly angry that he had bothered to ask.

"You're right. I don't," Draco snipped back with a sneer and that had ended the conversation.

It was now a week before midterms. No potions were assigned, but the room was reserved for practicing prior assignments, any one of which could be required for the exam. Draco and Harry were quizzing each other from a list of which ingredients went to which potions while they practiced brewing an intermediate healing draught.

"Essence of dittany," said Draco.

"Umm…something…healing related, I think?" Harry was not doing well at identifying potion ingredients. In fact, Draco was not even sure he would pass the exam. And if Potter screwed up, that meant his own exam grade would certainly fall significantly.

"Come on Potter, you know this," replied Draco, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Sorry, my head really hurts right now. It's a little hard to concentrate."

"Well suck it up and focus. I don't want you ruining my chances of passing this," said Draco. He stared at Potter, who seemed to sway a bit over the potion; it almost looked as if he was a bit dizzy. For the first time that lesson, Draco took in Harry's appearance. His eyes were red ringed and a little puffy, with dark circles underneath. Had he been crying? And when was the last time he had had a decent night's sleep? His hair, always disheveled, seemed limp and lifeless. Looking defeated, Harry turned away, eyes watery.

Draco was so disconcerted by Potter's pathetic countenance that he broke character.

"Potter…are you…okay?"

"What?" exclaimed Harry, caught off guard.

"I said, 'Are you okay?' I'm only asking because you look like utter shit…"

"Uh…yeah…I guess I just have a lot on my mind?" Potter seemed very guarded. Absentmindedly he tugged on his left sleeve.

"Oh," said Draco. "Well I guess this is fairly useless. Should we clean up and call it?"

"Yeah, that'd probably be best I suppose." They both began to gather their various ingredients and potion tools. Draco turned to dispose of the contents of their cauldron when he heard Potter let out a small yelp behind him. He turned to see Harry holding his left wrist with a pained look on his face.

"What happened now?"

"Nothing," said Harry, quickly moving to pull down his sleeve again. However, he failed to hide the blood on his right hand from Draco when he reached to grab his last ingredient.

"Potter? Are you sure you're okay?" asked Draco for the second time.

"Yeah…fine," said Harry hurriedly.

"You have blood on your hand," stated Draco.

"What? Oh…yeah, I guess so," said Harry, turning to leave the room.

"Where did it come from?" asked Draco. Harry stopped and tensed. Then he sighed.

"Does it even really matter?" He said this without turning around and Draco thought he detected a slight waver in his voice.

"I don't know, Potter. You tell me," replied Draco, crossing his arms. Harry's shoulders seemed to slump and he paused a few seconds before replying, as if thinking about something.

"We're not friends, Malfoy," said Potter, but there was no malice in his voice. Instead, he sounded…defeated? Draco's curiosity was piqued now.

"I know," said the blonde teen.

"Alright if I go then?" asked Harry, turning to face Draco again. Tears stained his face, something Draco was not really expecting. He gave the Gryffindor a curt nod and watched as Harry walked to the door. He glanced around the room. Weasel and Granger were arguing over something at their station in the corner. Snape was grading papers at his desk. Nobody seemed to have noticed how clearly distraught Potter had been. Something seemed very off.

Draco growled in frustration. What the brunette had said was very true. They were not friends. Still, Draco grew uneasy as he thought back over Potter's strange behavior over the past term.

"Fucks sake," he whispered. Then he quickly grabbed his potions bag and ran after the other boy, determined as only a Malfoy could be to figure out what the hell was going on with Harry Potter.


	2. Talk to Me

**Read the note in the first chapter. Trigger warning for self-harm, depression, language.**

**Chapter 2- Talk to Me**

Potter wasn't far ahead, but he was moving abnormally fast, as if he was running late to something. Draco caught sight of him just as he rounded the corner leading to the main staircase. Careful to keep his distance, Draco followed, trying as hard as he could not to make it look like he was purposefully following Potter. It felt odd, Draco was usually the one being followed by a suspicious, usually invisible Potter, not the other way around.

Draco almost lost track of the other boy as he quickly slipped down a corridor on the fourth floor, but spotted him halfway down the hallway and nearing the prefects' bathroom.

Then Potter stopped dead in his tracks. Draco stopped, too, quickly slipping behind a statue to avoid being seen. However, Harry Potter was not one to be tailed. Slowly wiping free-flowing tears from his eyes, he turned around.

"I know you're there, Malfoy. You want to come out and tell me why you're following me?" Potter sniffled a bit and continued to wipe the tears from his face.

Giving up, Draco came out from behind the statue. "Alright, alright, I was following you. I guess I just...wanted to make sure you were okay. You seem...off." The words felt strange coming out of Draco's mouth. Normally he wouldn't care about Potter and for a moment he tried to convince himself this was purely about his potions grade. He didn't care about Potter, did he?

"Oh, do I?" replied Potter, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Fuck off, Malfoy. If this is about your damn potions grade, you can go to hell. I'll be ready for it, okay?"

"It's not!" exclaimed Draco before he could think about the repercussions of what he was saying.

"Then what?!" yelled Potter.

"I...I don't know," stammered Draco, almost regretting following Potter in the first place. "I...you're crying, and I...wanted to know why."

"You what?" whispered Potter, choking up a bit.

"I asked you why you're crying. It's...it's weird," said Draco, unsure.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't be if I didn't feel like I do. Clearly, you'd never understand."

"Oh yeah, try me!"

"Try you?"

"That's what I said."

"No," said Potter, turning to enter the prefects' bathroom. "Don't follow me any more Malfoy. I just want to be alone." Draco growled in frustration. Then, on impulse, he shoved Potter into the bathroom, following him in. Then he took out his wand and cast a locking charm on the door.

"What the hell, Malfoy!" yelled Potter, caught by complete surprise. "Unlock the door!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on!" said Draco, standing in front of the door.

"What, you plan to keep me hostage until I spill my heart out to you? Psh...that's not gonna happen!" Harry's cheeks were flushed with rage, but his eyes showed a different emotion entirely. Draco said nothing. He hadn't thought this through, but it was too late to go back now. Slowly, he walked over to the trembling brunette and simply placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. That was all it took, and Harry couldn't contain his emotions any more.

Potter broke down and sank to the ground, covering his face as sobs poured out of him. Draco stayed quiet, feeling a bit awkward but still recognizing that this was not the time for questions. Instead, he sat down to the right of the Gryffindor and placed one arm around him. Almost involuntarily, Harry leaned into his potions partner, laying his head on Draco's shoulder and continuing to cry. Draco allowed him to and rubbed circles on his back, comforting the other boy as best he could.

After a while, Potter seemed to calm, sobs turning into little choked sniffles and the tears slowing. Draco knew there was at least one more thing he had to find out.

Gently, Draco pulled Potter's left arm to him and, before the other teen realized what was happening, pushed the sleeve of his robe up to his elbow. Draco's eyes widened at what he saw there. Cuts in various stages of healing spanned Potter's forearm. The ones nearest his wrist still bled and underneath it all white scars from past injuries lingered.

"Potter...who did this to you?" asked Draco, not understanding. Potter opened his eyes and looked from Draco's concerned face to his exposed forearm with slight horror. Then he hung his head in shame.

"Nobody did this to me, Malfoy," he said.

"Then how did it happen?" asked the blonde, confused. Potter sighed heavily, lacking the energy to make up a plausible excuse. Instead, he opted for the truth.

"I...did it to myself..." Potter pulled down his sleeve and turned away from Draco. "So now you know the truth. Now you know how disgusting I am and you can leave me be.

"Potter, I don't think you're disgusting. I think...well I'm not actually sure what I think yet, but you can't keep doing that to yourself. Am I the only one that knows?"

"At the moment..." The Gryffindor kept his eyes trained up, as if to ward off more tears.

"Well shit, Potter."

"Yeah, you're telling me."

"What about Granger? It seems like she'd be good at handling something like this." Draco was sure Potter's friends would take this on in a heartbeat.

"No. I think she'd freak out and tattle to McGonagall or Madame Pomfrey. Besides that, she and Ron are too busy to pay much attention these days. All Hermione cares about are her ridiculous study tables and color coding her lecture notes." Why had Draco not noticed that Potter's friends had become too busy to care? He wondered if this was true.

"Well, any of the other Gryffindors? Don't you all kind of have savior complexes or is that just you?" At this remark, the brunette seemed to bristle.

"Look, Malfoy, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit of an outcast these days. I really don't have anyone I trust enough to confide in. Hence, I deal with things on my own, as I have for most of my life."

"Doesn't seem to be working for you, though," Draco pointed out.

"I'll be fine," said Potter, "and I really should be going. You've got the information you wanted, now can you unlock the door? Afternoon classes will be starting soon." Draco didn't answer. "Are you deaf, Malfoy? I said, 'unlock the door.'"

"Talk to me," replied Draco quietly.

"What?"

"Talk to me," repeated Draco. "Confide in me, sit in silence and ignore me, whatever it takes, Potter. Just don't do _that_ again." Potter gritted his teeth in anger.

"It's not up to you, Malfoy! It's my life, not yours, and, once again in case you've forgotten, we're not friends!"

"No, we're not..." said Draco, "but we could change that. Besides, the way I see it, you don't really have a choice."

"What do you mean I don't have a choice?" said Potter, seething.

"Potter, if you won't talk to me, I have to tell someone." Potter looked Draco up and down, as if to judge whether or not the threat was real.

"Why?" asked the Gryffindor, eyes shiny again.

"Because what you're doing is dangerous," said Draco simply.

"No...not_ that_ why. Why do you care?"

"Maybe because as much as I might have been an arse to you and your friends over the years, I never actually want to see you harmed. Besides, I can't have my potions partner dying on me now, can I?" A hint of a smile crept across Draco's face, his sarcastic Slytherin personality showing once again.

"Ughhhh...whatever Malfoy. How do I get you to unlock this door so I can go to Charms?" Harry was beyond frustrated.

"Meet me after dinner. Slytherin common room. I know you know where it is."

"How did you—"

"Doesn't matter. Show up or I'll have to come find you," Draco interrupted. Harry sighed heavily.

"...fine. Now let me go."

With Harry's reluctant promise, Draco undid the locking charm. Potter gathered his things, wiped his eyes again, and left without another word.


	3. Whatever Helps

**Chapter 3 - Whatever Helps**

Draco stood still for a while after Harry Potter exited the Prefect's bathroom. He knew he also had to get to class but was a bit overwhelmed by what had happened.

After all, why did he have to be the one to figure out Potter's dark secret? He wasn't a therapist, and his healing skills were only minimal. Sure, he had heard that some people self-injure, but he had never actually met someone who did it. He didn't know the first thing about cutting, much less how to help someone stop.

Draco sighed. Well, it didn't matter now...he couldn't back out. Potter needed his help and the no option thing went both ways. As much as he liked to pretend to be an uncaring prick, Draco wasn't enough of a selfish bastard to go tattle to a professor or Madame Pomfrey. If the situation was reversed, he knew that he would hate that.

That afternoon, in transfiguration, Draco could not focus. Like potions class that morning, the class was meant to be a review session for the midterm. However, Draco had already mastered the spells they were assigned, so there was no real need for him to practice any of them. Instead of reviewing, he decided to make a list of questions to ask Potter when they met later that evening. Maybe if he could gather enough information about what was making Potter so miserable, they could solve the problem.

Draco continued his list in History of Magic after Transfiguration as Professor Binns droned on and on about something he was not remotely interested in, nor would he remember during the midterm despite his usually meticulous note-taking. After what seemed like forever, it was time for dinner.

Despite his usual confident, slightly arrogant approach to most situations, this one had Draco feeling a bit nervous. How would Potter act towards him? Would he be defensive? Would he cry again? Something else? Draco wasn't sure, but the first thing he noticed when he walked into the Great Hall was that Potter was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it," swore Draco under his breath before heading over to the Slytherin table. He contemplated his options. Maybe he was overreacting. Potter could just be running late to dinner. But why would he be late? Was he skipping out on meeting with Draco that evening? Maybe hiding in his dormitory? Draco decided to give Potter the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment. He took some roasted chicken and peas from the middle of the table and began to eat absentmindedly.

"You alright there, mate?" asked Blaise Zabini, noticing that Draco was staring intently at the Gryffindor table and not engaging in conversation whatsoever.

"Huh? Erm...yeah, fine," said Draco. Blaise shrugged and turned back to Pansy Parkinson to continue arguing over the current Slytherin gossip – whether Parvati Patil's outfit was fashionable or lame. Meanwhile, Draco continued glancing between the doors to the Great Hall and the Gryffindor table.

Granger and the Weasel were there, and seemed to be bickering over something once again. Neither seemed worried that their friend was not at dinner. After about twenty minutes, Draco was becoming increasingly concerned. Where was Potter? He was just about to go look for him when the doors to the Great Hall opened just slightly, and in slipped Harry, as if he was hoping nobody would notice his entrance.

Draco noticed that the boy looked very pale, even for Potter. His eyes looked red and slightly puffy, and Draco guessed he had been crying again. Was that why he was so late?

The Slytherin tried to catch Harry's eye, but the Gryffindor refused to meet his stare, keeping his eyes to the ground and slinking around to an end of the Gryffindor table several seats away from anyone else. Didn't he want to sit with his friends? Draco wondered how long that had been going on. Harry took some food, but didn't actually seem interested in eating it. Instead, he pushed his peas around his plate with a fork, staring blankly at the table.

Draco had long since finished his chicken and the Great Hall was getting emptier by the minute. Granger and the Weasel got up and left, but Potter didn't move. The light-haired teen realized Potter wasn't going to meet him any time soon unless he did something to facilitate it.

Sighing, Draco stood up and strode over to where Harry sat alone at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Come on, Potter, dinner's over. We've got that potions assignment to go over."

"What potions assignment?" said Potter blankly, not turning around to see who was talking to him.

"You know...the potions assignment. We talked about it this morning...?" Realization washed over Harry and he seemed to blanch a little.

"Right...that one. Alright, let's go then." Harry seemed very reluctant, but stood and strode out of the Great Hall with Draco like a man walking to the gallows.

Neither spoke on the way to the blank patch of wall to the dungeons that led to the Slytherin common room. However, once they stood outside the entrance, Harry seemed to get antsy.

"Won't the other Slytherins be angry I'm in their common room?" he asked quietly.

"Potter, I'm a Slytherin Prefect, I can do what I want. If anyone bats an eye I'll shut them up so fast they won't know what hit them." Potter nodded and Draco spoke the password, "banana fritter," to the blank wall, which turned into a passageway leading to a door.

Harry could see eerie green light shining from under the doorway, no doubt from the Black Lake. Draco walked down the hallway and opened the door to the common room. Harry stayed where he was

"You coming, Potter?" Draco asked, holding the door open. Harry gulped and nodded, then followed Draco into the common room.

Blaise and Pansy were on a couch, and a few first years were studying at a table. Silence fell across the room as the Slytherins spotted Harry and Draco. It looked as if Blaise or Pansy wanted to say something, but one dangerous glare from Draco made both reconsider. They turned back to their books.

"We can study in my room," Draco said loud enough for everyone to hear. Then he led Potter up a set of stairs to his private dormitory. Once inside he sat down at his desk and motioned for Potter to sit in the green armchair across from him.

"Alright Potter, what gives? You were late to dinner and then you barely ate anything." Draco crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"I wasn't really hungry, and I...had something to take care of," said Potter, shrugging defeatedly. This made Draco suspicious. He narrowed his eyes.

"What was the something you had to take care of?" he asked pointedly. "And be honest, Potter. I'm really good at telling when someone is lying."

"I just needed a bit of time to myself...to...decompress." Draco knew then what Potter was leaving out.

"You did it again, didn't you?"

"N-no..." stammered Potter, trailing off and refusing to look at Draco. The blonde considered him for a moment, then stood, crossed the room and took Harry's left hand in his.

"I told you there's no point lying to me. Now let me see what you did." Draco's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, but Harry knew he wasn't getting out of it. He looked away as Draco pulled up his sleeve, revealing five new angry red cuts with blood smeared around the edges. The Slytherin frowned. "Did you do this because of this morning?"

Still looking away, Harry nodded slightly and his eyes shined with tears.

"But why, Potter? I asked you to talk to me. I said I was going to help you." Draco ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Then he went over to the foot of the bed where his potions kit lay and began rummaging through it. Potter sat silently as tears ran down his face. Draco found what he was looking for, a glass bottle and an eyedropper. "Alright, this might sting a little at first, but it'll help with the healing," said Draco. Harry's eyes grew wide and he instinctively drew his arm in to himself.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Essence of Dittany," said Draco. "Potter, don't be stupid, give me your arm again." Reluctantly Potter held out his arm and allowed Draco to pour a few drops of the substance in the bottle on each of his open cuts, which stopped the bleeding. "Okay, that's better," said Draco. "Now it's time to talk."

"I don't really know what to say." Potter certainly wasn't making this easy. Luckily, Draco had anticipated this and had his list of questions he had come up with that afternoon ready.

"Okay. Well, let's start at the beginning," said Draco. "What's your favorite color?"

"What?" said Potter. "You're not going to ask about my arm?"

"Do you want to talk about that?" asked Draco.

"No," said Potter.

"Exactly," said Draco. "Right, so what's your favorite color?"

"What's the point, Malfoy?"

"The point is that we have to start somewhere. If I don't know anything about you, I probably won't understand when we do get into the harder stuff. And despite what you think, I want to help." Draco sat still and a silence came between them as Potter contemplated his statement and seemed to give in.

"That...sort of makes sense...my favorite color is green."

"Ahh, secret Slytherin, huh?" Potter gave Draco a look. "I'm kidding, of course. Any particular reason why?"

"I suppose it's somewhat representative of my life. I'm sure you've heard that I have my mother's eyes...both green. Sometimes when I look at my reflection in the mirror, I can pretend I see a piece of her within me and it makes me feel just a little bit better."

"You miss them a lot, don't you?"

"I do. Or rather, I miss the idea of them. I was too young to really remember it...too young to remember them."

"That must be very hard," responded Draco. He had of course known that Harry was an orphan, but he had never considered what the harsh reality of that might be for the boy.

Harry shrugged. "It is what it is. It's not okay, but I can't do anything about it."

"Right," said Draco. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I can't even begin to imagine."

"No," said Harry. "You can't. But I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. Anyways, should we move on to the next question?"

"Sure," said Draco, looking at his list. "Or, actually I thought maybe we could go back and forth a bit. I ask you something, then you ask me something."

"Well that's hardly fair. You have a list!" exclaimed Harry.

"That's true, but I know you have to have questions you've always wanted to ask me. Consider this your chance to have them answered." Draco looked at Harry pointedly.

"And you'll answer honestly?" asked Harry.

"Of course. There would be no point to us doing this if I wasn't going to be forthcoming. And I think this is the only way we have a chance at success...complete honesty with each other, even if the truth hurts sometimes."

"I have two questions, in that case. First, are you only doing this so you can use the information against me? And second, when did you become observant?" Harry seemed very guarded.

"If I was going to use this information against you, don't you think I would have let you keep doing what you're doing and made fun of you for it? And really, it wasn't that hard to figure out that you're not doing well. Everything about you, from your clothes to your demeanor is screaming 'help me' right now."

"But what if you're wrong, Malfoy? What if I'm perfectly fine with what I'm doing and I just want to be left alone?" Harry rubbed his head.

"I'm sure a part of you thinks that's true. But I don't believe that you like being alone in this. Now, I don't know exactly how to help you, that's for sure, but I don't give up easily. I know we can figure this out." Malfoy reached forward and removed Potter's hand from his forehead, taking it in his and gently rubbing it with his thumb. "Alright, next question. When did you first start feeling like your friends were too busy for you?"

"I don't know, some time over the summer I guess. Or maybe I've just changed and we've drifted apart. Either way, I wouldn't go to any of them with this."

"That sounds very lonely."

"It is and it isn't. I'd rather be lonely than participate in a hollow friendship that doesn't really mean anything." Harry shrugged as if dismissing Draco's comment.

"You know, I sort of get that," replied Draco. "I've had those friendships before, where it's all show but when it truly matters they aren't there for you."

"Exactly. Unfortunately, that leaves me with nobody." Harry sighed wearily.

"Not any more, Potter. You've got me now, and I will get you through this."

"Let's say I believe you, Malfoy. How are you going to do that when I can't even figure it out for myself?" Harry's eyes became teary and desperate.

"Well...you do this to yourself when you're alone, right? So, what if you weren't alone for a while?"

"Yeah, but how do you plan on fixing that?

"One day at a time, I guess. I think you should come here after your last class tomorrow. I can get food from the kitchen, we can skip dinner and study here until it's time for you to go back to your common room for bed. Does that sound alright?"

"So, you're going to babysit me?" Harry sounded indignant.

"Not exactly," replied Draco. "Just think of it as an opportunity to catch up on school and spend some time in a different environment. And you can talk to me, vent or get out whatever it is that's causing you to feel so bad."

"Your plan is that I'm going to talk to you and everything will magically be better then?" said Harry with a scoff.

"No, I don't imagine that things will magically get better, but maybe if you had some time away from the cutting where you're able to talk freely and not bottle things up, maybe you can start to heal or whatever." Potter laughed, but it sounded hollow and half-hearted.

"Alright Dr. Malfoy. Whatever you say."

"Can I ask you something more serious now, Potter?" Harry sighed.

"I guess."

"Why do you do it?" The Gryffindor decided that Malfoy seemed serious enough. Maybe he did actually care.

"Cut myself you mean?

"Yeah." Harry sighed again before answering.

"Sometimes I think there are a lot of reasons, and sometimes I feel like there is not really any reason behind it at all. I suppose the main thing is that it makes me feel better when everything hurts." He looked away, as if embarrassed by what he had admitted.

"So, let me get this straight. Hurting yourself stops you from hurting?" Malfoy looked a bit skeptical.

"I mean, it's somewhat hard to explain. It's constantly changing. Sometimes I want to feel the physical pain, other times I want to watch myself bleed and it almost feels good, and sometimes I feel like I have to do it to punish myself."

"That's fucked up, Potter." Harry laughed wryly at Draco's blunt response.

"Well you asked. I answered," he responded.

"Fair enough," said Draco. "Is there anything else that makes things feel better, though? Anything besides the cutting?" The brunette seemed to pause at this question.

"I guess when I felt like I had people who supported me and who I could talk things through with to a degree. But I don't feel like I have that anymore. I feel completely alone most times." Harry looked down.

"Hey," said Draco. "It's going to be alright, okay? I promise that if you can deal with being around me, I'll try to be a bit less of a sarcastic arse. That's better than having nobody...right?"

"I guess we'll see," said Harry.

"I mean it, Potter. But you also have to try. Do you think you can do that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well...no. But that's beside the point." Harry laughed again, but it was very hollow.

"Okay, I guess I'll try. What else am I going to do?"

"That's the spirit," said Draco. "Should we get to studying now then?"

"Sure," replied Harry.

The two spent the rest of the night in Draco's room. Draco seemed completely tuned in to his potions textbook, while Harry tried his best to keep himself focused to little avail. A million thoughts ran through his mind as the hours passed – curiosity about Draco's gentle approach to his issues, the shame of having been found out, and maybe just a tiny bit of hope that things might just work out after all.

Finally at 9:30 pm, Draco turned to the other teen. "I guess we should call it a night if you want to make it back to the Gryffindor common room, but I wanted to talk a little bit more first. To be honest, I'm a little worried about letting you leave."

"Well," said Harry. "I don't think we have a choice though, do we?"

"I suppose not," replied Draco. "I think the other Gryffindors might notice your absence."

"I doubt that, but I understand your point."

"Now, I'm not going to make you promise not to cut tonight. I know that's probably not something you'd be able to promise anyways. I do want you to promise me something though."

"What's that?" asked Harry, slightly apprehensive.

"Try doing at least three other things before you do _that_," said Draco.

"I guess I don't understand," said Harry. "What do you want me to do?"

"Anything that might possibly take your mind off of those thoughts," said the blonde-haired boy. "Read a book, do some writing, cry if you need to...you know better than I do."

"Okay," said Harry.

"Just like that?" asked Draco.

"If you're going to try to help me..." Harry took a deep breath, "I think I owe it to you to try as well."

"Whatever helps, Potter. Whatever helps..."


End file.
